


needle and thread, going to wind up dead

by made_of_lions_and_wolves333



Series: Quarantine Entertainment (Random Fandoms) [7]
Category: Hocus Pocus (1993)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, The Crucible References, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 18:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21257999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333
Summary: The Sanderson Sisters are said to be wicked and vile... but, considering the circumstances, was Billy himself really all that innocent in the past?[ Here are some missing pieces in the back-story, showing what could have led up to Winifred deciding to sew Billy's mouth shut. A splash of 'the Crucible' references are added in!]





	needle and thread, going to wind up dead

**Author's Note:**

> Disney. I own nothing.

"William Butcherson," Winifred starts. "May I ask, why do you serve Reverent Hale?"

Billy swallows. He’s never met a woman so stern like this before, all fire and ice. She’s dressed elegantly, much like nobility, but it is clear to him that she’s not a native to Salem. There’s something thorny and wicked in her stance; and it frankly thrills him as much as it unsettles him.

_Do not stop at the crossroads where the wolfbane grows_, Mister Binx had warned him once. _Venture not from the village streets after dark. Pay no heed to the woodland women who insist on talking to strange men._

"It is my duty to look for the missing children, milady," he replies simply.

She smirks, delighted by this, and trails a long hooked nail along his jaw. It sends a jolt of nerves down his spine. "Such a faithful dog, you are… risking thy life for his work. Hunting witches. Even when Salem was utterly convinced it had done away with all their witches last season, he comes again, and you still follow without question?"

"I have little else."

"Salem underappreciates you, William," she notes, glancing at the near-empty rum bottle now hanging limply in his grasp. "Do you not feel it, too? The elders simply pity you. Nothing more. Why else would they waste their words on a son of a lowly sailor and a nameless islander whore?"

"… It has been that way since I was a wee lad. I have grown accustomed to pity, milady."

"Then, why not pledge your service elsewhere? Serve someone who... could, perchance, offer you a _greater_ purpose than licking the boots of the men who look their noses down on you?"

Billy blinks. "Pardon, milady?" This woman is not a typical beauty, yet he’s surely memorized by her. By her wild red curls and her wide smile full of teeth that look far too _sharp_ to ever touch. As she inches closer, leaning in, it takes a strange amount of effort and willpower for Billy to stand still. But, actually, it seems as though his insides are melting…

That is when it strikes him. She is someone rare, forbidden, different from what he’s ever seen. A commanding presence.

He might not be attracted to her face, but it’s her obvious power that calls to him. It temps him. O, the possibilities!

"I _appreciate_ loyalty, William. You are starved for true affection." Her lips soon find his ear. Her breath is on his neck; her blushed cheek is cold against his. "There are two sides to every war, and I would have you on mine, if you’d agree. You may be a tamed dog on a leash, but I am at least willing to share the scraps from my plate. You shall never go cold or hungry again if I should be the only master you answer to…" 

* * *

Billy pretends he has not seen anything related to witchery at all. He walks tall and silently, and still pretends that he isn’t just making his way out of the dreaded woods at dusk.

He sighs in mild relief when he’s reaches the main road unbothered and unnoticed. 

However as soon as he rounds the fence and is about to slip inside his hut, he’s greeted by the youthful laughter of the little Binx girl. "Good eve’ing, Mister Butcherson!" He tenses and looks over his shoulder as the innocent child dressed in virginal white comes scrambling up to him like a newborn filly.

"What are you doing out here alone, girl?"

"My friend, Miss Sarah visited today to give me a lullaby!"

His attention instantly shifts above her bonnet to see the fair Sister Sarah ducking behind the large oak tree.

"— _Emily Binx_!" They both turn after hearing the concerned voice of Goodie Binx. Her mother is beckoning her daughter over eagerly. "Come home now, ye senseless girl! If ye know what’s best for your health!"

"Aye, Mummy! I come."

The child dashes off his property, and Billy simply nods at Goodie Binx, as it is just the proper and civil thing to do. She nods in turn. Her elder son, Thackery, stares back at him curiously for a moment too long. Though Billy knows it’s best to let him be the first to look away, feeling a prick of bitter defensiveness in his limbs.

Though once he is left to his own devices again, he seeks out Sister Sarah, tucked out of sight and smiling, concealed by leaves and rotten bark. "She is such a sweet and soft child."

"Where's your sister, fair succubus?" he prompts her gruffly.

"Brewing," she giggles. "Winnie is the master of the cauldron, after all."

“Stay away from the main road after tonight. Mind your hunting boundaries. Stop playing with children this close in the plain light of day.”

“Why? Are you worried for me, dearest Billy?”

“Nay. I needn’t worry for you, Sister Sarah. You are a ravenous wolf, and they are all sheep at your mercy.”

She giggles more, teeth white and bared, her parted lips sinfully painted red. “But even wolves desire pups, Billy. I imagine at times these small village children were my own.”

His throat grows taught, and his heart sinks into his lungs. Her reactions tell him that she _knows_. She can see the longing and want, the impurity behind his eyes. “Until you and your sisters grow too hungry to stop yourselves from preying on their flesh and souls...”

“Aye. And I hunger even now.” The setting sun kisses the top of her pretty yellow hair, shining with light. It’s a halo that mocks him.

Billy surges forward on impulse, catching her arms before she dances too far off. He’s pressing himself between her skirts and it’s everything he fancied it would be, and more as she laughs and they merge together, picking up speed. He indulges in her.

He can dominate for once, with selfish caresses and greedy kisses. There is no Winifred, no Sister Mary, no wicked scheme to target these children and lure them away in the dark. There is only his burning desire and sudden need to overpower this enchantress, to claim her. The beast in his veins comes alive and unleashed when Sarah mewls and he nearly forgets his own name as he’s rutting inside her.

* * *

Four nights after, Winifred unfortunately confronts him about his attention. Or, the sure lack thereof.

"You have grown colder in my presence after all this time, William," she suggests, eyes flitting between him and the pages of her Dark Grimoire.

"I only aim to satisfy you, my mistress," he stresses with a clear huff.

"You do not look, or touch. You do not speak."

"Can’t a dog rest silently at his master’s fire for a time?”

"Reverent Hale has just left and we are not hanging by ropes. I thought you would be more pleased by this victory."

"Your sacred Harvest Eve is approaching. Preparing for it is simply hard work. I am weary is all, Mistress."

"So as you say..."

* * *

"You are quite silly to follow me," Sarah points out, as she wades her way of out the river freely, her exposed curves sleek and beaded with water. She tightly wraps her cloak around herself with an amused look.

Billy is already barefoot and reaching for her, pressing close and whirling her down atop the grassy hillside. Blushing, Sarah continues to chuckle in that sweet musical way she does. The sound ripples under him, then, he is blindly lost in his fantasies. "I must follow," he gasps.

And he takes her. He takes her anywhere he can, whenever they are alone; when Mary’s too busy hopping in happy circles around Winifred to smell the scent of arousal from him. When Winifred barely looks up from her unholy pages and is too focused on her next feeding arrangements. When Sarah is slinking around town right before dawn, unseen by others, and she’s scoping out children to sing to and lull into a trance.

Billy eagerly takes Sarah to his own bed, then in the hayloft nearby, in the river she’s so fond of. He even takes her on a bright Sunday morning, when the rest of Salem is in Church.

He even decides to be bold, figuring that he can take Sarah inside the Sisters’ cottage without a hitch. Sarah just snickers and tries batting his hands away, telling him _nay, not right now_. But soon his hands are roaming under her skirts again anyhow and his lips nip teasingly at her ear again, pleadingly, and then —

— then, he’s pushed back, thrown into the wall behind them by a force of nature he’s never felt before. _Lightening_. It rattles his bones and shocks him sober. He looks up, huffing, to see the outlines of Winifred and Mary standing still in the doorway. Spurts of bright green magic buzz and crackle dangerously in Winifred’s right hand and there are no words. In that moment of clarity and regret, Billy knows his mistake. He knows he’s witches’ bait.

And in a blur of curling fingers and long swaying fabric, his staggering form is lifted from the dusty floorboards and they toss him onto the chopping table, on the flat of his back, helpless, and the room grows dim. He can feel the pull of straps and strings holding him in place.

He hears Winifred reprimanding him for breaking his oath, for being so weak-willed, that he couldn’t even restrain himself with the succubus. He can hear Mary growling like a mad hound. He can even hear Sarah somewhere nearby — she’s still _laughing_. She laughs at anything. Even him; even as he’s being punished and tortured by her sisters. Even as he screams and shouts in a vengeful fury, threatening that he’ll return to the village and share the truth of their nature.

“I swear it, Winifred, you devil! It will be my word against a witch’s! You hellions will hang after this!”

“Oh, dearest William,” his dark mistress purrs in turn, and soon he sees the silvery glint of a dull needle above him in the candlelight. “You are no longer welcome here. You may indeed return to the village. You may run back into their arms and beg for mercy. If they’ll have you… even when you will not be able to use your filthy tongue again.”


End file.
